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Friday, January 31

Even the strongest feelings, even the deepest bonds die away if left alone for long enough; the return of the prodigal father can only cause ache to the ones left behind and drains all life from their open arms. All great stories of humanity have already been lived and told, yet their magic is brought to life under the skillful hands of a talented creator. Andrey Zvyagintsev is a promising director, whose mysticism and naturalistic approach to the story is reminiscent of the great Andrei Tarkowski. In The Return time stood still and the natural world defeated man once again in their fight for supremacy- woods, rain, lake, wind, arid land conquer the realm of man and their ancestral force slowly reshapes his habitat.

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Once again, journeys define us as human beings and challenge our limitations, either turning us into kings of the world or beggars of our long-lost humanity. The Return, contrary to expectations, is rather about the two boys -Vanya (Ivan Dobronravov) and Andrey (Vladimir Garin)- than about their unknown father who comes back after twelve years of absence. His return feels less natural than his leave and is marked by unspoken truths and hidden plans. The father comes from nowhere, has his own hidden agenda and at the request of the mother, takes the two boys on a trip that is used an excuse to tend to his own affairs. Harsh, violent, unaffectionate, stark, the father rapidly turns from unknown figure to detestable adult, defeating the spirit of the boys, reaping their innocence and breaking their hearts. Andrey and Ivan record their trip and mixed feelings on a diary, meant to witness their coming of age, their rite of passage from their mother's protective dominion to their father's abusive realm. Andrey is more lenient, anxious to please the father, desperate to grow under the influence of an male role model ,whereas Ivan is the rebel with a cause; to him, the stranger doesn't qualify for the paternal figure and he resents its dominating attitude. His final outbreak, stealing away his father's knife - a symbol of manhood and dominance- leads to an unexpected turn of events that will shatter his innocent childhood world.

The characters are well-defined, standing luminous in the dark shades of the movie, almost as red as the car -symbol of the crossing over between the world of innocent childhood and the harsh reality. The boys are natural in their roles, rendering a wide range of emotions, from mute excitement to fear and ultimately, shattered innocence. The father has the agile movements of a trained military figure, the inexpressive face of a heartless creature, and the violent gestures of an abused adult; however, his final strike of unselfishness conceals the promise of redemption. Still, life steals aways his final attempt to regain his long lost children and he vanishes as quickly as he emerged. The mother -blond, protective, kind, attractive- is only powerful outside the father kingdom and watches helplessly how her children fall at the mercy of the estranged husband.

In a religious key, the movie is a parable of the supreme sacrifice- that of the Chris figure father who has come to save believers and non-believers. The fish, the sea, the boat that feels like walking on water, on a hidden stone, the father scolding them as Chris did with his disciples, the corpse lying in the boat as if crucified, all these resemble the Biblical story and give a deeper meaning to the story. On the other hand , it could all be an apophenia effect of a desperate mind. The key lies in your own heart and in the wonderful things The Return has in store for each of its viewers. This is a movie that will sadden your heart only to deliver your spirit from the darkest pit; life is generally painted in sepia tones and it is within us to find the guiding light, the strongest shade of red that can colour our inside.

Saturday, January 25

Once again, a book that reminds me of the unexpectedness of personal journeys meant to liberate the spirit and challenge the heart. Henry and June is the incredible account of a woman's awakening to life, of her mysterious and provocative becoming into her much craved womanhood. Angela Anaïs Juana Antolina Rosa Edelmira Nin y Culmell was born under a fascinating star- that of Bohemian, artistic influences, thrills of flamenco music, accomplished writing and self-indulging way of looking at life. Upon reading her books, based on her diaries, one feels instantly drawn to her vulnerable, yet overwhelming passion. This is a woman passionate about writing, true to her feelings, emotional and open about her consuming interests. Without necessarily being into female erotica, I still marveled at her easiness and natural manner of exploring erotic writing. The most extraordinary thing about her writing is her strength, her explosion of femininity and her open-mindedness.

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Henry and June is the story of the intriguing moment in her life when Anaïs met Henry Miller and his wife, June Mansfield Miller. At the time, Anaïs became fascinated with both of them, taking the shy banker little wife out of her shell and turning her into an accomplished woman, both sexually and intellectually. Anaïs was taken aback by Henry's literary force and helped him with his work, becoming his mistress, once June went away. In the beginning, Anaïs felt more intrigued by June's captivating personality and physical attractiveness; however, the two women did not have an intimate relationship or if they did, Nin kept it for her eyes only. Upon June's departure, the relationship between Anaïs and Henry grew into an addictive obsession, taking them on an exploring path meant to reveal unimagined sensations and discoveries. The more she fell for Henry completely, the more estranged she became from her husband, Hugo. It was interesting though how all the other men revolving around her -Eduardo, Allendy, Hugo- openly or secretly coveted the devilish creature that could fulfill every male fantasy and hidden expectations.

Anaïs is hard to resist. She must have been an intriguing beauty that made your senses boil with anticipation. I, for one, am not attracted to women, yet I felt a sudden, unexplained magnetism towards her exquisite writing, her sharp mind and the sexually charged, self-assumed womanhood. Much to her flaws and humane limitations, Anaïs is one of the most fascinating women I have read about, read into and wished to have met. Some people simply burst with life and passion, incapable of walking through life without pouring their grace upon the fortunate few who penetrate their circle of fire. And this woman and writer surely was one of them great characters. Her talent resides in her writing skills, in the way she manipulates words into penetrating the readers' minds, in her liberated, fluid style and the beauty of her narrative.

Henry and June is an analytical book, dissecting the relationships with her abusive father, her cousin Eduardo, her shrink Allendy, her husband Hugo and her lover, Henry. Her desires are selfish and self-centered, her actions are at times hard to accept, yet we are not to take upon ourselves the difficult task of judging her choices. Polyamorous relationships are still a tabu, a controversial subject in nowadays' modern, open-minded society. Right or wrong, sinful or natural, I believe they do not make the core of this book; it is the intensity of the writing and the idea that love is so challenging in this respect that it takes endless analysis. Yet, for a woman to face and accept her shortcomings and limitations, to be open about her feelings and her desires is a healthy, natural process that should be applauded and appreciated. This is a book for the brave women, for those who are not afraid of meeting challenges as they grow and become themselves the strong creatures they are meant to be. Roaming the cafes in Paris, visiting art galleries, watching prostitutes, writing powerful lines, questioning personal life, marriage, choices, make Henry and June a book that is both spontaneous and delicate, a journey into self-discovery. Henry is "a man who makes life drunk", June "the most beautiful woman on earth" and Anaïs, I would say, is the devilish candour that should define a woman.

Friday, January 17

Once again, beauty takes the form of Rome, exquisite cinematic vision and a journey that will live you breathless. An unspoken homage to the place that lived as main character in the movies of Rossellini or Fellini, La Grande Bellezza is the latest attire of the Eternal City- a Rome that pulsates with aliveness, in a movie that makes your heart burst. It is one of those movies that display such beauty in themselves -chromatically, in dialogues, in the story- that you feel shrinking into yourself due to their overwhelming power. There are some works of art so breathtaking, so ferocious in their impact on your senses that you at once develop the most acute form of Stendhal syndrome and find yourself numbed from all that beauty. And this is exactly how I felt while and for some time after watching La Grande Bellezza.

Remembrance of past times and forgotten memories is very Proust-like and Rome unravels as an appealing madeleine that takes us down its streets full of history, art and a smell of intriguing yesterdays. Jep Gambardella (Tony Servillo) redefines the joy of dolce far niete, taking it to the next level- a refined lifestyle that we are allowed to grasp through his eyes. Decadence and debauchery beautifully translate into women, drinking, eating, drugs and partying. In-between, Rome keeps its splendour for the chosen ones and denies its grace to the unfortunate tourists, the last of each drops dead for the sinful audacity of turning its back to its music and poise. Rome belongs to itself, not to the inquisitive eyes of the rest of the world and Jep holds the keys to all its lavish secrets. The magnificence of Rome feels like looking through a kaleidoscope of peculiarity in which a skillful puppeteer's hand has shovelled them all: the cardinal, the stripper, the magician, the nun, the dwarf editor, the mute, the bald, the ugly. Immune to all and open to everything, Jep's lethargy comes to an end when, lost among faceless friends and acquaintances, news from its past great love knocks at his door. The husband of his first love -eighteen is the most unfortunate, yet the essential moment to encounter amore- reveals that his dead wife took her eternal love for Jep to her grave and this bitter revelation takes him back, down the memory lane, to a beautiful summer, of beautiful people and beautiful feelings. Little by little, composure is shaken and the shield of numbness that Rome has wrapped around Jep's heart melts away and his memories of the purest feeling lead to turmoil and bitter tears. Mortality becomes visible and soul-searching, necessary.

Tony Servillo has natural charm and aristocratic movements, gliding on and above, in and out his beloved Rome, a spectator of its decandence and past glory. Can a man be defined by the city he inhabits? Can we grow into being extensions of a self-eating, agonizingly beautiful city? Good actors make it feel possible and simply grab you from the ordinary comfort of your existence to stir your senses and challenge your mind. Modern day Rome has lost its lush, reminiscent of past emotions and fears. Jep Gambardella, under the skillful touch of great Tony Servillo, is its voice, asking la grande question: where can beauty be found? Is it in the glorious past, in the opulent present or in the unexpected future? Beauty is to be found not in the plastic surgery interventions or the incredible dresses, yet beauty is within. We are merely the translucent mirror that reflects it upon the world around us. Beauty is brought to life by love and together they give meaning to life. Obviously, they glitter in a unique manner in the Eternal City, in a movie that no loving mortal should miss- La Grande Bellezza.

Friday, January 3

Instead of brutally forcing his audience to witness abuse as in Precious, Lee Daniels speaks of one of America's most violent times in a very non-violent manner in The Butler. This is a very polished picture, shining as the cutlery or the shoes Cecil Gaines is silently and diligently looking after, in his perfect white gloves. From the cotton fields where he grew up to the refined halls of the White House, Cecil Gaines acts as a damn fine house nigger, able to behave, serve and make conversation with style and in the most comfortable manner possible. Cecil is the man for the job in terms of submission, acceptance, servility, the perfect butler in a racial America that breathes violence and speaks of the almighty power of the white man.

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Similar to the character Forest Whitaker is skillfully playing, The Butler is a quiet movie that has not once intended to raise any issue or bring any offence; it is upsettingly nice and well-behaved and although the story is presented from Cecil Gaines' point of view, it still lacks the boldness and the sparkle of an unforgettable movie. That is not to say that there are no moving scenes or passionate moments, especially those focusing on Gloria (Oprah Winfrey), the wife, whose occasional carelessness feels more appealing to the viewers than her domestic attributes. Gloria is a former housemaid turned into a respectable housewife whose passions swing between liquor and amateur seamstressing, her womanizer of a neighbour, Howard (Terence Howard) and her working, yet absent husband, Cecil. Eventually, Gloria grows out of her addiction to be a good mother and a loyal wife, the president of a house where Cecil feels as invisible as he is at his workplace. Yet, her performance is powerful and charismatic, a character that brings force and commitment to the picture.

Serving seven white US President is no easy job, requiring a lack of presence that feels alive and opportune, a perfect face, a fleeting smile, a deaf year and an unopinionated presence. Cecil has learned the hard way to keep his mouth shut -his mother gets raped and his father gets shot for standing up to the white devil- so he slips into invisible clothes whenever around the white man, an attire that becomes his second skin and keeps him away from his wife and two sons. As a father, he brings home the bacon, yet fails to nurture a good relationship with his older son with whom he becomes estranged for most of his life. The younger son is the Uncle Sam figure that sadly perishes in the Vietnam War, whereas the elder son, Louis (David Oyelowo), is the rebel who walks with Martin Luther King and Malcolm X, taking defiance from jailhouse to home and back to the streets.

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Less language-abusive and less demanding than last year's Django Unchained, The Butler's reminiscent of Forest Gump's travel through history with a different perspective, less humorous and less dramatic than The Colour Purple. Nevertheless, the movie holds a place of its own, with an incredible cast -Eisenhower (Robin Williams), another fellow butler played by Lenny Kravitz, Kennedy (James Marsden), Johnson (Liev Schriber), Nixon (John Cusack) and Reagan (Alan Rickman) and his pretty wife, Nancy (Jane Fonda)- and some great performances. Rhythm may be slow, Hollywood conventions may be abundant, yet the alternating shots of the butler's impeccable work at the White House and his son's radical and revolutionary actions are exceptional. A proclamation of Black history, the movie is also about family tensions and the over-dramatizing of the poetry of life, things that may be to some people's liking or bear too much resemblance to Hollywood mainstream cinema, for others. In a word, a movie that is more about the outstanding performances and less about the sparkling story.